The soldiers hoisted the prince’s body onto their shoulders and rushed back toward the castle. Pierre tried to keep up.

“How did you find us?” Pierre ran alongside one of the soldiers. “I thought we were done for.”

“Well, we thought we heard something in the darkness. Someone talking…”

Miles away, in a shtibel, a great chassidishe rebbe sat at a table, surrounded by his disciples. They watched as their rebbe concentrated deeply. A few moments passed, but no words were forthcoming. The rebbe looked like he was in some sort of trance. When he finally opened his eyes, the room was filled with an unusual energy. This would not be an ordinary learning session; this the disciples knew.

This was, after all, the holy Baal Shem Tov. His mind dwelt in very lofty realms.

“In Tehillim, kapitel kuf zayin, pasuk chaf gimmel, it says, ‘Those who descend to the sea in ships, who do things in powerful waters.’ The word for ships is ‘aniyos.’ This word has two meanings: ‘aniyah’ can mean ship or mourning. The pasuk is telling us as follows…”

Everyone leaned closer.

“There are great neshamos that descend from the Heavens into This World. These neshamos are put inside physical bodies, and the neshamah can perform many mitzvos with it. They are raised by parents with yiras Shamayim and ahavas Hashem; they are surrounded by mitzvos, Torah, and tefillah; and they are protected from the turbulent waves of darkness that exist in the world. These souls descend into the sea, which is a metaphor for our world, protected in ‘ships.’ ”

“And there are other souls…” The Baal Shem Tov paused. “There are other souls who do not descend into the sea with ships. They descend in the sea — our world — in mourning, for when they enter, they are lost in darkness, misery, and deceit. These souls are drowning at sea, and often they do not even know it.”

The Baal Shem Tov raised his voice now, his fiery gaze captivating every person in the room.

“What does the end of the pasuk mean? ‘Who do things in powerful waters.’ This means there are some people whom Hashem has placed in This World to perform important missions in the sea of Olam Hazeh, the mission of rescuing those whose neshamos are literally drowning….”

The Baal Shem Tov then requested a parchment and a quill. He wrote down a message, and then stood up and entered his private chambers. Then he summoned one of his students, a tremendous talmid chacham, one of the several disciples referred to as the ‘chassidim nistarim.’ ”

“Reb Nissan, listen to me closely.” The Baal Shem Tov slid the parchment into an envelope and sealed it. “You can be of great service to a lost soul and bring them back home.”

“I am ready to do whatever I can!”

“Good. Take this envelope. Travel without delay to Charki. There you will make your way to the castle of Prince Benedict Radzivil. Locate Pierre, his close friend.”

“And then?”

“Then you will open the envelope.”

Reb Nissan looked at the Baal Shem Tov in surprise. He had no idea what was about to occur, nor did he understand his unique role in this mysterious mission, but his emunas chachamim was unshakable. If the Rebbe requested that he do these things, who was he to question it? He would carry out exactly what his rebbe had commanded him. Down to the last… letter.

Meanwhile, the prince was not faring well. He lay on a table, a team of doctors peering down at him, poking and prodding, but doing little good. With each passing minute, whatever little life the prince retained seemed to be slipping away. His breath became more shallow, his face even whiter. It was clear there was no chance he would survive his wound.

“We are out of options,” the lead doctor informed Pierre out of earshot of the others. The prince will not live much longer.”

“You must do something!”

“There is nothing to be done.” The doctor shook his head. “Prayer is all we have left.”

“So we’ll pray!” The moment Pierre said those words, he was surprised to feel a surge of shame. He had no clue how to pray, nor had he ever entertained the thought of doing so in his entire life.

“Who’s going to pray, eh?” The doctor scoffed, seeming to read Pierre’s mind. “But come to think of it, there is one house of prayer open even at this late hour. Perhaps the people there will agree to convene a special prayer service for the prince’s well-being. I think they like the prince, those Jews….”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 896)